Flowers of Flesh and Blood
by nothing-chan
Summary: Arthur's breath stuttered when he felt something collecting between his legs, slipping like slime down his pale white thigh, dying the soft hairs lying there, warm, intimate, deadly. He was bleeding. "It won't hurt later, I promise, you're supposed to bleed, I promise, listen to me, I love you, I'll make it better, I promise."


_Flowers of Flesh and Blood by Nicole Dollanganger_

* * *

Alfred lifted his foot, frozen dirt and polluted snow with it, the horrible mix drink of winter dripping off of his boot and onto the disturbed ground below. The boys both stood, watching the mess collect in the crevices of the forgotten footprint, creating pools of swirling dead insects that slowly seeped into every open space available.

Then Alfred put his foot down, destroying the small village of grime he had founded, pushing sludge up to spill over like an infected wound. He continued on the invisible path in front of him, leaving Arthur behind, his footprints a trail of acid tears separating the snow before haltingly fading into the ground below.

Arthur stepped into his larger marks cautiously, monitoring the way the slush overflowed with the pressure, making sure it did not drown his own shoes, a pair that just so happened to be his favorite. He clutched the rough and frigid bark of every passing tree, fingers curling into the indents to keep himself balanced as the ground shifted and rolled underneath him. Ahead of him, Alfred had stopped, hands in his pockets, a small clearing spread out under the dull, white sun.

"There it is, man it hasn't changed since the 2nd grade," Alfred's voice was nostalgic as Arthur stumbled up next to him, observing a weary, broken down cabin settled in between the massive jaws of oak trees. Arthur was silent as they approached the door, making the rotten wood moan underneath them, sounds vanishing into the empty woods around.

Inside the cabin was dusty and aged and smelt a bit like uncorked wine, the walls breathing in and out every time the wind jostled the plants outside, two wanderers lost inside the belly of an untamed, barbarous creature. The ground was wood and the walls were wood and the windows were wood and everything around was wood, whispering secrets and stories of wisdom filled rings, brushing past Arthur's ears and out the door when Alfred closed it behind him, sealing their fate.

"It's cold," Arthur commented, teeth chattering, body seizing as gooseflesh rose across every bare piece of skin. Two arms wound around him tightly, a boa constrictor grasp that crushed the air from his lungs, buckling his unsteady legs and sinking him to the ground.

"I need to tell you something… I brought you here to tell you, please let me tell you," Alfred was kneeling behind him, fingertips icicles that dug into Arthur's exposed neck, ice skating precariously across his jawline. "I'm in love with you."

Arthur felt him rest his head against his shoulder, forehead crunching against his angel wing shoulder bone. Alfred's breath was heavy, melting the frost across Arthur's back, feeding a puddle beneath them that dented the wood and left their knees soggy.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you think I'm disgusting, don't you? You don't want to be my friend anymore, I get it. Wow, I am such an idiot, I'm so, so sorry," his voice was a broken record, scratching and clawing at Arthur's eardrums, a sharp nail grating down a chalkboard. Alfred was shaking behind him, quivering and liquefying underneath the despoiling light filtering in from the window. Arthur reached a shaky hand up to card into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and breathing deeply, feeling the strangulating arms encircling him twitch.

"I love you."

* * *

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

Arthur scrapped against the ground, splintering dry wood underneath his fingernails, teeth devouring his lip so hard he surely must be a cannibal. The overpowering weight on top of him did not lessen, but increased, shoving his denuded chest into the earth, heart thudding against his paper thin skin.

He was being torn apart from the inside, the pain from the sharp punctures of wood nothing compared to the roaring ache resounding below his waist, each thud of his heart carrying the affliction through his bloodstream, blanketing his body in a synonym of hurt, fear, pain, pain, pain. Arthur's breath stuttered when he felt something collecting between his legs, slipping like slime down his pale white thigh, dying the soft hairs lying there, warm, intimate, deadly.

He was bleeding.

Arthur began to squirm, a caged animal pinned to the ground, toes curling desperately, attempting to get a grip. Above him, Alfred fumbled, face slick with sweat and hands grasping onto the writhing boy below him, feeling his ribs slip past his fingers, a snake in the dark.

"A-Arthur, please, stop moving, please, listen to me. It won't hurt later, I promise, you're supposed to bleed, I promise, listen to me, I love you, I'll make it better, I promise."

Arthur stilled, water collecting against his cheek, dribbling into his mouth, salty and dry. Kisses pressed against his neck, muscles convulsing, he let the blood drip down from his leg, tainting the floor and poisoning the land below.

* * *

Arthur was alone when the blood dripped out of the faucet, first covering his hand, then the sink, then inundating onto the ground, rising all around him, covering his head, boiling hot and stifling thick, waves of nausea stinging at his nose.

"Does it hurt?"

Arthur ran his hands down his neck, streaks of pink scaring his flesh.

"It should."

"Why?" Arthur continued to scratch at his neck, throat itching and clogged with blood as it poured into him.

"Because, you deserve it love, we all know it, every single one of us."

He slid down the wall, hands clenching the vein pulsing in his neck, making his head float away from his body, trying to rise above the blood, but the sweet voice pulled him back down every time, baptizing him in sacrilegious liquid.

"I don't, I don't, I don't deserve it, I don't…"

"You do, you do, you do deserve it, you do. He doesn't love you, I hope you know."

"You're lying, you never tell the truth, you're lying to me." Alfred loved him, he loved him more than he loved his Captain America figurines and he loved him more than a summertime barbeque and he loved him so much, he had said it himself, as Arthur lay down against the ground, feeling him slave away from above, pleasuring oozing from his every cell.

"You? You think he loves you? Disgusting, what the bloody hell is wrong with you? Why would he love you, you're ugly, so ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly."

"Please stop…" Arthur pressed his hands against his ears, trying to drown out the words that were singing inside of his skull, bouncing off of every wall.

"Want to know why he fucked you face down? Because he didn't want to look at your hideous face, he didn't want to know it was you."

"Please, please, please…"

"Hurt him, hurt yourself, he doesn't care about you."

"I love him," Arthur choked out, brackish tears rusting the blood swirling all around.

"Then hurt him, hurt him so he knows what he's done, hurt him, hurt him, hurt him…"

The blood sloshed onto the street as Arthur exited his house, knife pressing into his skin.

* * *

Alfred looked worried when he opened the door, eyes exuding sleep, glasses askew on his nose.

"Arthur? Are you okay?" The soggy boy stood outside, hair dripping red liquid onto the carpeting as Alfred let him inside, taking his coat, peering at him the whole time.

"I'm just cold," Arthur muttered as he stood sulking in the doorway, not shivering, not freezing at all, just rocking back and forth on his feet, fingers curling and uncurling around the blade in his pocket.

"Arthur… have you taken your medicine?" Alfred asked warily after a minute, stuck somewhere between inching forward and stepping back, faltering in his courage. Arthur shook his head slowly, absently thinking of the discarded container sitting at the bottom of the trashcan, covered in blood.

"Okay, alright, it's okay, let's go see Doctor Honda, okay? Here, take your coat," Alfred slowly moved toward the door, unsure in his movements, scanning Arthur's abstracted face.

"No! Stop! Listen to me," Alfred halted, chest beating up and down like a bird sealed inside, "Listen to me, I love you Alfred, I love you." He took a step forward, hand shifting in his pocket, rolling the metal between his fingers.

"I know you do, I love you too, that's why you need to come with me, okay?" Arthur shook his head again, staggering all the way into the house now, screen door bouncing behind him.

"No you don't, you don't love me, why don't you love me?"

Alfred took a step back, loosening his grip on the coat and letting it fall to the ground, feet a bumbling mess below. "Who told you I didn't love you?"

"He told me, he tried to drown me, there was so much blood, it was coming out of the faucet, he said you didn't love me," Arthur was approaching faster, shoulders wracked with dry heaves, small, needle knife emerging from his pocket. Alfred watched the weapon with newly frightened eyes, the blue an electric shock that reflected in the charged air.

"Arthur, listen to me, I love you, he isn't real. I'm real, I love you, please, Arthur, please," Alfred had backed up to a wall now, trapped, cornered, caught in the gaze of a predator that was just a vulnerable as the prey, crystalized tears dangling from his eyelashes.

He reached out in a flash, hand slamming over Alfred's mouth, smacking his head against the wall and pinning him to the plaster, never flinching as the other bit into his flesh hard.

"Don't scream, please don't scream," Alfred was screeching into the limb, muffled by the warm grip engulfing his face. The victim was by all means stronger than the attacker, but Arthur stopped the struggle when he sunk the blade into Alfred's right side, searching his dimming face as the disappearing knife slid across his body, warm, intimate, deadly blood spilling out onto his hand. Arthur reached up to cup his dangling face in his hand, feeling him tremor underneath him, disgorging out all over the floor.

"It won't hurt later, I promise, you're supposed to bleed, I promise, listen to me, I love you, I'll make it better, I promise."

* * *

_Hello._

_I really wanted to write something for this song, but I couldn't quite think of a situation where you would want to kill someone you made love with, aside from rape, which I am not very comfortable writing about. So, naturally, I went with mental illness. Of course._

_I do not suffer from schizophrenia, nor do i know anyone that does, so if my interpretation of it was wrong in any way I'm sorry._

_Please review, favorite, and enjoy your day._


End file.
